


and I didn't understand (when you reached out to take my hand)

by likeiambreathing



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, GOSH, brief sexist gross boy in the beginning, how do you even write, i dont even know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeiambreathing/pseuds/likeiambreathing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in her floral dress that cut off mid-thigh and high heels, her long blonde hair cascading in a wave down her spine, Cosette looked more intimidating than she ever had.<br/>Also ridiculously attractive, but that was another story altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I didn't understand (when you reached out to take my hand)

Eponine was used to dealing with utter and complete bullshit. Hell, she was a Thenardier. It was basically a given. She had played mother, babysitter and tough older sister to her siblings since she was a kid, given her parents lack of caring.

She’d been working jobs as the ticket seller at movie theaters, waitress at cafes and barista at Starbucks. The jobs deemed unworthy by others, but gladly taken by her. After all, she did have college tuition bills to pay. And textbooks. God, textbooks were expensive. Plus she had to pay for things like rent for the apartment shared with Grantaire, and you know, buying food was also a thing.

So that’s why she found herself working as a waitress of sorts at the club her friends regularly went to, The Corinthe. It’s also why she was about two seconds from turning around and decking someone, her job be damned.

It was a busy night. Friday nights were always busy, but the guy in charge had declared Friday nights meant deals on shots, leaving it filled with even more people. Part of her job involved wearing a short black skirt, a white tank top and a red long sleeve top, tied up under her chest. It was degrading and she despised it, but there wasn’t anything she could really do.

The skirt, for some reason, made men think it was completely okay to pinch, grope or slap her ass. She really needed her job, so she never complained except when she was at home with Grantaire and a bottle of wine, but that night was the wrong night to mess with her.

Making her way through the horde of sweaty dancers, she reached one of the tables at the edges of the dance floor. Neon lights flashed off the walls, illuminating the dark room. Some popular electronic song was playing, the beat vibrating the floor.

Dropping off two bottles of beer at a table, she smiled at the two guys sitting there. The ginger one was kind of cute, though he gave off the dopey vibe that reminded her all too much of Marius.

Fucking Marius.

The other one, though, was grinning at her cheekily.

“Here’s your drinks, gentlemen.”

“Thanks, gorgeous.” He let his eyes lazily run up and down her body, not even bothering to hide it.

Leaning her hip against the table, she cocked an eyebrow. “You sure are daring, you know that.”

“Well, I haven’t yet met a girl who has resisted.”

While his friend paid the bill for the drinks, he kept talking. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing working in a club?”

Eponine tried really hard not to roll her eyes. “Well -”

She let her eyes drift across the room, losing her train of thought because of course, of freaking course, in walked her friends. Not just her friends, but Cosette, who was currently smiling sweetly at Marius and nodding at whatever he was saying.

“Hello?” The guy said, snapping his fingers and calling her back to the conversation.

Looking back at him, she frowned. “I’m not a dog. Snapping fingers isn’t how to get my attention.”

His friend, the not-quite-Marius kid, mumbled something about how they should leave. The guy ignored his protests, raising his eyebrows. “Well, it did get your attention, babe.”

Curling her hand into a fist, Eponine turned back, catching Grantaire’s eye from across the room. Whatever her expression currently was, it made his eyes widen.

She had just begun to walk away when she felt someone pinch her ass. Hard.

Whirling around, she snarled at the guy, her hand clenching the drink tray so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Whoa,” he said, “Take a joke.”

The music playing seemed to dim, the flashing lights less bright. Eponine swore that would’ve been the part in a movie where her vision went red with rage.

Taking one step closer to the asshole, she felt someone grab her arm lightly, and stopped.

Turning around, she found Cosette looking up at her, eyebrows furrowed.

Lacing her fingers through Eponine’s, Cosette stepped forward, staring directly at the guy and his nervous looking friend.

“Don’t you dare touch her again.”

She said it simply, raising her voice just enough to be heard over the music. Even in her floral dress that cut off mid-thigh and high heels, her long blonde hair cascading in a wave down her spine, Cosette looked more intimidating than she ever had.

Also ridiculously attractive, but that was another story altogether.

Ginger-haired guy grabbed his friend, muttered an apology, and scurried out of the club.

Turning back to face Eponine, Cosette smiled sadly.

“Boys suck.”

Eponine, because she was always fantastic at forming coherent sentences, nodded.

With that she turned and walked over to where Jehan and Courfeyrac sat at the bar.

The rest of the shift Eponine retrieved and delivered drinks, stopping only a few minutes to say hello to Grantaire and shake her head when he asked what was wrong.

The rest of the shift, she felt the absence of Cosette’s long fingers entwined with hers.

 

-

 

The next morning she awoke to a familiar pain in her head and groaned into her pillow. After her shift the previous night, she came home around 3 in the morning and began drinking and was still drinking when Grantaire stumbled in a couple hours later, his hair even wilder than usual and lips slightly swollen. She asked how Enjolras was and he smiled at her sadly, sitting down and playing with her hair while they passed the bottle back and forth.

She had buried her face in Grantaire’s shoulder, muttering something about stupid blonde hair and stupid blue eyes and stupid _emotions_.

“She’s so perfect,” Eponine had said, running mostly on wine at that point. “And I’m- I learned how to pickpocket at thirteen, R.”

Grantaire wrapped an arm around her protectively, knowing that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t help.

Now, Eponine groaned again. At least she didn’t have to work today. Plus, since it was summer break, no school.

Thank god.

Just as she was about to fall back asleep, Grantaire burst into her room, jumping onto her bed and nearly crushing her.

“Eponiiiiiine!” He said with false cheerfulness.

“Fuck off,” she mumbled.

“Ep’. Get up. I need to go get some art supplies.”

“Go, then.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m really not. I’m hung over.” She slowly pulled the covers away from her face. “Wait, why aren’t you hung over?”

“Because, my dear, my drinking tolerance is much higher than yours. Plus you drank way more than I did.”

She groaned for the third time that morning, finally sitting up when her annoying friend had yet to leave her room. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go. Just get out so I can get dressed.”

He grinned at her cheekily, nearly skipping out of her room.

If she didn’t love Grantaire so much, she would almost miss him when he was just as moody as she was, back before he had started dating Enjolras.

 

-

 

Twenty minutes later she was slipping on a giant pair of sunglasses that were probably Grantaire’s and followed him out the door.

“Can we at least stop for coffee?” She mumbled.

He smirked, handing her a thermos.

Eponine lunged for it, gulping the coffee greedily despite it burning her tongue.

Grantaire laughed, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his back pocket, and they started down the street.

Once they were outside the art shop, Grantaire turned towards her, looking like one of the devils that perch on cartoon characters shoulders and tell the angel to shut the fuck up.

She stopped dead in her tracks, raising a brow at him. “What did you do.”

It wasn’t poised like a question.

“Well,” he said, “I may have-”

This time it was his sentence that was cut off due to Cosette appearing.

“Hey, ‘Ponine.” She smiled, and Eponine nearly died right there on the spot for multiple reasons.

For starters, the tights she was wearing under her high-wasted shorts had a giant hole on the knee, and also because if she thought she’d run into Cosette, she would’ve applied some lipstick, or maybe given more of a shit about evening out her mascara.

Of course, Cosette looked perfect. She always did.

Her hair was slightly curly that day and it made Eponine’s stomach clench. She thought about how it would feel to tangle her fingers in the half-curls, to kiss the blonde girls slightly pink cheeks.

If only she were Jehan, she could write poems about her beauty. Or paint them, the way that R paints Enjolras. But all Eponine had was pathetic feelings and zero artistic talents, so instead of continuing with her train of not very innocent thoughts, she smirked.

“Hey, you. Have we been set up?”

Cosette blushed. “I suppose we have.”

Eponine nodded, still smirking but throwing Grantaire a look that said _this is so not over_.

She’d expected stuff like this from Courfeyrac, sure, which is why she never told Courf anything, but never from Grantaire.

The traitorous bastard.

“Well!” Grantaire said, dropping his cigarette butt and stomping it out, “I guess I should go meet Enjolras. See you guys later.”

And with that he was gone, leaving the girls alone.

After a moment of silence, Cosette smiled shyly and said “Have you eaten yet today?”

Eponine shook her head, having already given up on making her mouth work if she was anywhere near the blonde girl.

Cosette reached over, looping her arm through Eponine’s. “Onward, then?”

She smiled, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace. “Onward.”

 

-

 

Later that day, Courfeyrac sent out a group text telling everyone to come by his apartment later on for a much-needed movie night.

Eponine wasn’t sure if she was going or not. She still had a bit of a hangover, plus Courfeyrac always picked either A) Disney movies or B) horror movies so dreadful they weren’t even funnily bad. And it wasn’t that she disliked Disney movies, but really, there were only so many times one could watch Mulan while Courf sung every song, always loudly and off-key.

And she may have been avoiding Grantaire, who would surely want to know what happened with Cosette during their breakfast or lunch or whatever (no way would she be caught using the phrase ‘brunch’), and what would she tell him?

All that had went down was they went to a café and ate some bagels and drank tea, Eponine opting for the tea over coffee because her hands were already embarrassingly shaky.

Cosette had been, obviously, sweet.

At some point she had tried to bring up the night before, but Eponine shrugged.

“It happens all the time,” she took a sip of her tea. “I mean, obviously I hate it, but there’s nothing I can do. If I react, I’ll get fired, and I really need this job.”

Hating it was an understatement, considering how often she went out at break and kicked a wall to feel better, and also to keep herself from kicking the next creep.

Cosette furrowed her brows, instantly making her want to lean over and smooth it away. She tried really, really hard not to think about that.

Afterwards they’d said their goodbyes and Eponine had made her way back to her apartment. She’d sunken onto her bed and remained there all day, alternating between reading and stressing.

She was screwed. Definitely screwed. A hollow laugh escaped her throat as she thought about how mere months before, she’d teased Grantaire for being in the same position.

Throwing an arm out towards her nightstand, she felt around until she found the pack of smokes. She usually didn’t smoke in the apartment - not that it didn’t already smell of it due to her and Grantaire anyways – but oh-fucking-well, honestly.

Just as she was reaching for her lighter, her phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she sighed, answering.

“I still hate you.”

Grantaire laughed. “Nah, you don’t. I’m too adorable.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate you.” She said, rolling over onto her stomach.

Judging by the shitty pop music playing in the back, he was already at the apartment Combeferre and Courfeyrac shared.

“So, when are you gonna get here, oh skinny-jean-clad hipster?”

She snorted. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Unknown Indie Bands.”

“Oh, I see how it is now-”

He was cut off by Jehan’s voice now on the other line.

“’Ponine, you should come. We miss you.”

“I saw you guys last night, Prouvaire.”

“Not for long enough.”

She could picture the puppy dog eyes he was making and gave in.

“Fine.”

“Love you, ‘Ponine.” She could hear him smiling through his words.

“Love you too, idiot. Now give the phone back to R.”

There was an exchange, and then Grantaire was back.

“Well, that was rude.” He said, sounding amused. “Now, get your ass over here. ‘Parnasse brought some of that gross fruity shit you like.”

“On my way,” Eponine said, shoving her battered pack and lighter into her back pockets and hanging up the phone.

She was out the door minutes later.

 

-

 

“Shots!” Courfeyrac shouted, entering the living room, bottle in hand while Combeferre was left to juggle the shot glasses.

There was a collective groan from the group.

Since Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta couldn’t be there (for reasons no one wanted to know), Courf had been pouty, saying it wasn’t a real movie night if everyone wasn’t there.

So movies were forgotten, and drinks had become a main priority.

Montparnasse and Jehan were entangled on the chair, a mess of clashing prints. Feuilly and Bahorel were wrestling on the floor, nearly breaking every piece of furniture in their vicinity. Courfeyrac and Combeferre sat back down on the main couch next to Marius, setting down their drinking supplies on the table (and if they kept giving each other not-very-discreet looks, no one mentioned it. Nor did anyone mention it when they were later found holding hands and smiling ridiculously.) Enjolras and Grantaire sat at their feet, bickering about something, but still holding hands. Cosette was beside them, leaning against Combeferre’s legs and watching their argument with a fond smile. And lastly, Eponine was folded into herself on a cozy chair, cradling a half-empty wine bottle.

Needless to say, the so-called “fruity shit” that she liked was helping her feel a lot better.

“What are we drinking too?” Marius asked, nodding to the glasses.

“Does there need to be a reason?” Courfeyrac responded.

Next to him, Combeferre smiled, fiddling with his glasses. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, showing off his tattooed sleeves, a mess of tangled knots and patterns. “Well, with shots it’s usually a good idea. Unless you want to end the night getting your stomach pumped?”

“Touché, my friend.”

After a moment, Grantaire finally looked up from his argument. “Why don’t we just play one of those stupid middle-school drinking games?”

Courfeyrac grinned at him. “That’s the spirit!”

While they argued over which game to play, Eponine stood up, still clutching her half-empty bottle.

Grantaire caught her eye, raising a brow.

 _Smoke_ she mouthed to him, receiving a nod in return.

Deciding against the fire escape, since many interesting and slightly horrifying stories involving Montparnasse and Jehan had happened out there, she opted for outside the apartment building.

Walking past her friends, she opened the door and slipped out hopefully unnoticed.

Once she was down the stairs and outside the building, she leaned against the brick wall, setting the bottle down at her feet. She didn’t really want a smoke, though it was tempting. She just didn’t want to be inside anymore, watching Marius stare at Cosette like a puppy and Cosette turning an adorable shade of red in return. It hurt, honestly.

At this point Eponine should’ve gotten used to the fact that certain things just weren’t for people like her, such as genuinely good people like Cosette, who could obviously do so much better than Eponine. She was rolling these thoughts over in her head when the door opened, Cosette strolling out. Eponine was almost sure she was hallucinating, because really, what weird timing.

But then Cosette leaned against the wall next to her, hair already sticking to her neck in the disgustingly warm air.

“Hello, dear.” She said, smiling at the blonde girl. She was just enough past tipsy that she was daring enough to lean over and brush Cosette’s hair from her face.

Cosette blushed, smiling back. “Hi, _dear_.”

Eponine laughed. “Well, it’s not like your name can really be shortened to a nickname. Unless you like ‘Sette?”

She wrinkled her nose. “God, no. Not ‘Sette.”

Eponine laughed again. “Told you.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a bit, their arms just touching.

When Eponine glanced over, Cosette was staring at her, eyes wide and searching. She didn’t know what Cosette was trying to find, but she doubted it was there, whatever it was. Eponine, because she’s just so goddamn smooth, stared back. Maybe Eponine was a lot drunker than she thought, but she felt a tension in the air.

Not really thinking about it, she leaned in, pressing her mouth to Cosette’s. If Cosette was surprised, she hid it well, kissing back immediately. The kiss was sweet and slow, Eponine tangling her hand in Cosette’s hair like she’d wanted to for months. It was over far too quickly, Eponine pulling away, breathing too quickly.

Cosette bit her lower lip, looking unsure of what to do with herself. After a moment, she began to say “’Ponine-”

But Eponine was already leaning over and grabbing the wine bottle, keeping her eyes down.

_Goddamit goddamnit goddamnit._

“Well, uh, this was nice.” She choked on the last word. “See you later, dear.”

And with that she turned and nearly speed-walked the entire way back to her apartment, ignoring Cosette calling out after her.

 

-

 

The next morning, sadly, she remembered everything and immediately wished she’d drunken more the night before.

She’d ran.

She had finally kissed Cosette and Cosette had kissed her back, and then Eponine had ran, her only thoughts that she wasn’t worth it, that she’d somehow manage to wreck Cosette.

This beautiful, perfect girl who for some reason didn’t think Eponine was trash definitely deserved better.

Rolling over, she buried her face in her pillow. She probably would’ve stayed like that all day, in her blanket-nest of shame, if there hadn’t been a knock on her bedroom door.

“Not again, Grantaire.” She groaned.

The door creaked open, though Eponine kept her face buried.

“R, seriously-”

A girl’s voice cut her off. “It’s, um, not Grantaire.”

Eponine sat up so quickly she’d be surprised if it didn’t cause permanent damage.

Cosette stood at the end of her bed, looking like she hadn’t slept all night. Eponine felt a pang in her chest.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” She asked, glancing around Eponine’s messy room.

Eponine nodded, fiddling with the blanket while Cosette sat down on the edge of her bed.

“So, last night.”

“Last night.” Eponine repeated.

Cosette opened her mouth to say something, but Eponine shook her head.

“Look,” she said, the words spilling out quickly, desperately. “I know that you have a thing for Marius and that he has a thing for you, and I know that you’ll probably have wonderfully adorable children one day, and I’ll be the bitter aunt that they come too for all sorts of illegal things. And I know that you totally regret last night. I’m really sorry. I mean, not that it happened, because I’ve kinda wanted that to happen for like six months, but because you probably felt like you had to kiss me back because you’re so goddamn nice and-”

This time Eponine was cut off. Cosette scooted across the bed until she was sitting directly in front of Eponine, their knees touching. She put her hands on either side of Eponine’s face, a small smile on her lips.

“Eponine, I don’t like Marius.” Was all she said.

“You don’t like Marius.”

_Wait, what?_

“Nope. I mean, as a friend, but that’s it.”

“So last night, then.”

She laughed quietly, leaning in even closer. “Last night was wonderful, though I wish you hadn’t ran away after.”

Eponine cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

They sat there for a moment, so close their noses were almost touching.

“Wait, so you like me, then?” Eponine asked, because she figured there was a good chance she had to be dreaming.

Cosette nodded. “I really do.”

“Why?” she blurted out, then shook her head. “Actually, no, don’t answer that.”

Leaning in, Eponine kissed Cosette, faster and with more need this time. Cosette’s lips were soft and warm under hers, and Eponine tangled her fingers in Cosette’s hair.

By the time they pulled back, both were breathing heavily.

They sat like that for a bit, just looking at each other and trying to get their breathing back to normal.

After a minute or so, the door creaked open, causing both of them to jump. Grantaire poked his head in, a smirk gracing his lips.

Before either of the girls could say anything, he was closing the door again.

Eponine raised a brow, then groaned when she heard Grantaire shouting “Fucking finally!”

Cosette laughed, burying her face in the dark-haired girl’s neck.

Fucking finally, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Say It To Me Now by Glen Hansard


End file.
